Starting again

in 2016 I started a blog when I didn’t even know what a blog was. It didn’t last long, however I am going to try again. If you read the first two blogs from back then you will know what the content and concept is going to be. For my English teacher classmates, please don’t grade me, I know I will dangle a participle on occasion.

Growing up in the fifties and sixties was so much different than today that I have trouble understanding what is happening with the world today. As I stated previously family was everything to us. Besides my parents my Aunts, Uncles and Grandparents had a huge role in raising all of cousins. My older male cousins became role modes and that was not a bad thing. A absolute highlight of my teenage years was cousin Dennis letting me drive his new 1966 Chevy Corvette down the road for a short trip. Can you even imagine?

Saw a news story a while ago about an American girl in Russia catching a ride with a stranger and ending up dead. Got me thinking about how we got from place to place in the Sixties. I started playing sports in junior high. My Dad worked 12 hours a day for years, Mom had the younger kids to take care of so getting home from practice was up to me. Easy, I stuck out my thumb, worked just fine. Most of the time. There was one afternoon when standing on the best corner in Romeo for a ride that one of the older guys wanted the corner. Bob was about 3 feet taller than me and an upper classman, he was in a hurry and suggested I wait so I waited my turn. Back then picking up a kid was not a big deal, today most people think 6 times about stopping and then drive on.

Many things are hard for my generation to understand. See we lived through the civil rights movement. In fact, in Romeo as far as I know we were always integrated. We had several black families that lived in town, went to school with us, played sports and lived normal lives like everyone else. Now, I’m not naïve, of course we had our share of racist. They just kept their hate to a lower level than a lot of the country. Over the years this country has come a very long way. All minorities not just blacks hold every political office you can think of, CEOs of major corporations, business owners, educators. Yet there is a very vocal minority today working to drive a wedge between people of all races and ethnic groups. Hatred is becoming a problem that only the silent majority can fix. Every day Americans must start to stand up and be heard, we can’t let a few tear down the respect and advances Americans have made in race relations over the last 60 years.

I am not going to write about today’s politics. Facebook and every news station are full of political commentarys. Reporting news is a thing of the past. Mr. Mowry taught us who, what where and when, why is left to the columist.

Patriotism is under attact today and we all need to defend the America where we grew up .

Some Background

If I am going to write about the good ole days I should give you a little background on how they started for this lad.

Before there were any hippie communes there was the Whiting commune. We grew up in Ray Township of Macomb County.  Granddad had a farm on 29 mile road, part of the farm is Wolcott Mill Metro Park today.  As his kids married he gave each a parcel of land so all the Whitings and the Reed family lived in a row.  Because all the Aunts and Uncles and cousins lived so close together our early social life centered around family.  I have to believe that is why yet today I have this strong unshakeable believe that family is everything.

Right behind the farm flowed the North Branch of the Clinton River. A dam on the river created a good size pond and also created the water flow to Wolcott’s mill water wheel which turned the grist mill.  The river and pond were an integral part of our lives.  We fished, swam and during the winter ice skated on the pond.  It was not unusual for the Whiting clan to be skating around the pond on a Sunday afternoon enjoying hot chocolate and hot dogs roasted over a campfire, maybe even a smore or two.  And you know what? Never once did I hear a phone ring with some irritating ring tone.  We lived dangerously back then, none of us owned knee pads, elbow pads or helmets.  I know we should have had butt pads because some of us ended up sitting unexpectedly.

Sunday dinner at the Grandparents was the norm until Grandma got sick. The day She went home to heaven devastated our family.  She was the Grandma that taught us, spoiled us and the rock we tried to hide behind when Ma or Dad were not real pleased with us.

For supper the family sat at the dining table and talked while we ate. TV trays in front of the tube was not even considered.  Today I see couples or familys in restaurants, phones out, fingers flying.  I think vocal conversations are becoming a thing of the past.

In my younger days I probably got spanked every day. Most days I deserved it, the others I’m sure were for evil deeds that I thought I had gotten away with.

Everyone in a couple of square miles was considered a neighbor. At Halloween you had better hit every house or someone’s feeling were hurt.  Nobodies land was littered with “No Trespassing or NO Hunting” signs.  Didn’t need them, we knew where we could hunt and where not to.  We respected others property.

We weren’t special in anyway, just normal. That’s just the way most people lived. My Dad would often help out someone with a small loan to get them over a hump.  All done on a handshake.  Sure we had crime back then just not a lot.  Respect for others and friends and neighbors helping each other was just the way we lived.

From early age us boys had chores around the house.  The garden had to weeded like ever day.  At that time Mom was a stay at home mom who canned or froze about everything we grew in the garden.  The was about a 1/2 acre of lawn to be mowed, not with a rider or self propeled, just a gas push mover.  Plus whatever projects Dad had assigned.  We were also free at that early age to play with neighbor friends, fish the river, ride our bikes, but all this freedom came after chores were done.,  Any violation of the above resulted in a stay at home day.

A of our work was not done at home.  When I was about 11 I along with other young people in the area went to work for a produce farmer picking green beans.  We got paid 75 cents a bushel.  Do you know how many green beans are in a bushel?  I can tell you, a whole lot.  I don’t remember the weight the bushel had to be when we turned it in for pay but it made me think that I would never pick beans for a living.

Shortly after that my neighborhood had some new comers. Richard lived next door to me, Gary about a hundred yards down the road and Bo who lived about a mile down the road.  Together we formed a team of hay harvesters.  We had 3 different farms for customers.  Even at that young age we would drive the tractor, bail and stack the hay in the field then bring it back to the barn and put it in the hay loft.  Hot, sweaty, exhausting work, but it put a few bucks in our pockets and taught us the value of hard work.  We did this all through our teens years.

Work was not all we did growing up.  In my next post I tell about having fun in our neighbor hood.

Just thoughts

Never thought at this stage of my life I would be starting a blog.  Hell, I didn’t even know what a blog was not long ago.  I just wanted a place to share my thoughts on the good ole days so if someone is interested they can see how life used to be a little less stressful.  I don’t plan to get political but I might on occasion.  If you like reading my blog let me know, if you don’t you can let me know too, but I really don’t care.

Some of the subjects I will cover are growing up in the 50s and 60s and the differences today.  Like, starting to work outside the home at about 12 year old and still working today at 67.  Raising our kids the way I was taught by my parents, the value of your word and a handshake, common sense the way my generation views it,  and anything else that pops into my head either inspired by memories or current events.

Let me give you an example,  in the mid fifties my Dad brought home a pair of boxing gloves.  Big heavy things.  At the time he had 3 boys and figured this was a great way to settle disputes between us guys.  More than once we had to put the gloves on and settle whatever disagreement we had.  I remember my best friend Gary Smith coming over to play on several occasions and we put the gloves on for fun….that damn Gary poked me in the nose so many times it quit being fun real quick like.  Can you imagine a parent today pitting two of the kids against each other with boxing gloves.  If Dad were still alive he would still be in jail.

Remember the parents that got in trouble for letting their kids walk a couple of blocks to the neighborhood park?  At 11 and 12 we were traveling all around a country square mile to play and explore.  It was our neighborhood.  No fear of being kidnapped or molested,  didn’t even know what molested was and if anyone kidnapped us they would have returned us pretty quick.  Our parents didn’t have any money and we were typical boys, so they would have probably told our captures to keep us and good luck.

Later blogs I will reminisce about starting school in a one room schoolhouse, going to school in the big city ( Romeo ) and whatever trips my trigger.  They probably won’t be daily but for sure at least weekly.

So, welcome to Tim’s blog and my 21 century ramblings.